Brian, that doesn’t sound familiar. And he is my Father? Then why the guns? There was something about that scenario he did not like. He set his drink down on the boss’s desk and said. “I think I’ll leave now.” Again, the poke in his ribs from the gun nozzles.
“The boss says stay,” growled one of the men.
As if by instinct, he picked up the glass and smashed it into the face of one guy, turned, and punched the other. He was swift and fierce. The men were out cold, and the boss cowered in the corner of the room. He took their guns and left out the back into the alley again.
The rain was relentless; he made his way to the river and sat on a bench under a protective cover. Cold, wet, and shivering. So tired, he drifted into a deep sleep.
Leave a Reply